


Thanks, Freddie Mercury

by orphan_account



Series: Writing Wars [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Marco loves Queen, Modern AU, stupid college kids moving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:16:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving from home to home can be quite a fruitful process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks, Freddie Mercury

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notsofriendlyghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsofriendlyghosts/gifts).



"Fucking shit!" I said.

 

Not the best way to wrap this up, but at that point I really didn't care.

 

I sighed, frowning at the heavy box that had hit me like it was filled with bricks, rubbing the spot on my head where it had nearly killed me. Packing was shit. This house was shit. The new house was shit. The guy coming around the corner was―

 

Well.

 

Pleasantly not shit.

 

I tried to look at optimistic as possible from my position on the floor as Marco walked towards me, face turning to surprise, then amusement. My face morphed into a stupid grin as I scooted past the tower of boxes (and the offending attacker) and leaned against the wall, patting the spot on the wood next to me. He shook his head, smiling softly and putting the box of books he was carrying down on the hallway floor. He sank down next to me, gently brushing my hair out of my face as he settled.

 

"So," he started, trying to suppress his grin. "the mighty Jean Kirschtein falls to a box." I pouted, leaning against him, grumbling. 

 

"I totally could've kicked that box's ass," I stated indignantly. I scooted even closer to him, and he laughed, reaching up to hug an arm around my shoulder. He turned my chin, and smiled soft at me. And I melted faster than the wicked witch of the west would in the middle of an ocean. We didn't kiss long, but certainly not because I didn't want to, mostly because Marco caught sight of what the box had scrawled on it and pulled away. And I definitely did not whine in disappointment.

 

"'Old dad shit'?" he read, turning to me and grinning again. I puffed out a breath, scooting around him to get a better look at the box and snorted, "I'm pretty sure I'm legally allowed to call my old man's stuff whatever I like at this point. It's technically mine, he shoved it on me when I moved out in the first place― Hey!" I said in mock outrage as Marco opened up the box. He merely chuckled at my weak shoving at his arm and began pulling stuff out of the box. Dusty trophies, broken vinyls, photos; my dad went the whole mile. For the most part, I just watched Marco's shifting expression. Surprise, amusement, and disgust all flashed over his face at some point. After a few minutes of this, though, I had to intervene when Marco pulled out a square of white, flipping it over with eyebrows raised. I rolled my eyes.

 

"It's all just shit I'm obligated to keep, Marco. I've never even figured out what that signature says, it's just F, scribble, and M, scribb― Marco?" I cut short, staring at his rigid shoulders and wide eyes. He was staring at the illegible signature, and then he was shaking slightly. I'll admit it now, I freaked a bit.

 

"Marco? Babe," I said worriedly, touching his arm, "are you okay? Is it something bad? Should I―"

 

His head snapped up, and he cut me off with a look full of fire. I jerked back quickly, but not quickly enough as he grasped my arms, staring at me with those blazing eyes. Eyes full of―

 

Joy?

 

"You―" he choked, and cleared his throat, taking several deep breaths. I stared at him, wide-eyed as he struggled for words, head dipped slightly. He looked back up at me after a few seconds of this, and now he had tears in his eyes.

 

"You had a Freddie Mercury signature."

 

He was still staring at me. I stared back. And I was afraid.

 

"Um. Marco, I don't- I didn't know who it belonged to?" I offered meekly. "If you want to have it, you can― you can have i―" and all the breath was crushed from my lungs as he 

pushed me to the ground, arms wrapped around my waist like he would die if he let go. 

 

I was staring at the ceiling, trying to breathe, when I heard it. Two words. The best words I had ever heard in my life, muttered into my chest, like he was afraid I would fucking run away when Marco said them.

 

"Marry me."

 

My breath stopped. My heart stopped, too, and my eyes snapped down to the mess of black hair and freckles on my chest. I'm surprised it didn't kill me, really. And yet, I still had the bodily functions to say, "What."

 

He tightened his arms around me once, then sat up, pulling me up with him. And when he reached tentatively into his pocket and pulled out a small black box, I died. Because what other explanation could I have for feeling like I was in heaven?

 

He opened it carefully, and inside was a simple silver band. "Jean Kirschtein," he started, then halted, looking down, his hands fidgeting. I was still frozen on the floor, not breathing or moving. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked at me, his face full of poorly concealed hope.

 

"Will you marry me?" he said. 

 

 

My reply was instantaneous.

 ~

 

...So yeah. Sasha, please help me. I don't know which Queen songs Marco thinks are good (or any Queen songs, for that matter). I'd really appreciate your help, because this...

...this is the most important thing to happen to me in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick ficlet because me and a friend got to talking about classic rock and.  
> Queen-loving Marco happened.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
